Mickey Mouse was only a cartoon and Anaheim was still an orange grove the night all our dreams came true.
The night Kiddyland opened.
A Ferris wheel, roller coaster, choo-choo train, merry-go-round, boats, airplanes, cars, ponies, and the tallest ice cream in town -- slab after slab of it piled into a cone.
What more could a kid want in a town without TV?
Even Hizzoner got into the act. Oct. 7, 1949: Mayor E.T. "Happy" Houston officially opens Kiddyland by taking controls of the five-car train, chugging around the park. Hundreds stand in lines 20 deep for a chance at the rides, according to the next day's press accounts.
"The weather was good, there was a hell of a crowd and everyone was happy. That's what I remember," said Jerrold Cohen, who was all of 5 years old at the time.
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It was Cohen's parents, Sam and Ruth Cohen, who brought forth Kiddyland on a plot of bare land "way out" on Speedway – where the pavement gave way just east of Alvernon.
Those of us who spent many a happy moment with our behinds planted in one of Sam Cohen's rides owe it all to the fact that Howdy Doody had yet to come to the Old Pueblo.
"There was no television in Tucson, so he decided to open a kiddyland," said Jerrold, whose father had sold television sets back in the family's hometown of Chicago.
Illness brought the family to Tucson.
"My father had cancer, but he didn't know it. It looked like arthritis," said Jerrold. "Someone suggested Tucson."
Construction began in early '49 on 2½ acres, leased. "My father could have bought the land for $37,000," said Jerrold.
Neighbors included Soporito's market across the street, a lumberyard and a gas station. Jerrold also remembered Maple Leaf Furniture Co. "Their advertisements used to say, ‘Right across the street from Kiddyland.' "
A landmark it was. "I used to dread the first day of school," said Jerrold. "We all had to get up and tell about ourselves. When I would say that my parents owned Kiddyland, the kids would get so excited. Sometimes the teachers would, too."
Built for $100,000, Kiddyland was open every afternoon but Mondays during school, longer hours during summer. "We'd stay open until the last customer left," remembered Stephen Cohen, Jerrold's older brother.
Rides were 9 cents apiece, 12 for a dollar. What were your favorites? Remember the planes on chains? Remember the boat rides -- and fighting with your brother over who got to clang the bell?
How about the Ferris wheel? Remember how scary it was to stop at the top? You'd sit very still, while the machinery quivered and creaked and all of Kiddyland -- kids, parents, rides -- roiled beneath your feet.
Want a swell birthday? Only Kiddyland would do. "We had a special place for them to have cake and favors," said Jerrold. Twice a year the whole park had other parties: an October anniversary celebration, and a free party in December for underprivileged children.
Three years after he came to Tucson seeking a cure, Sam Cohen was dead of cancer. Kiddyland continued. Young Jerrold joined his older brother at the park, taking tickets, selling refreshments, and, when he got older, operating the rides.
A man who lived a block away took care of maintenance. So, on occasion, did whoever else was handy. "The train engine did two loops around the park," said Jerrold. "The cars were always jumping the track. Once in a while the engine did, too. We'd just get a bunch of people and put them back on the track."
In 1958, Ruth Cohen sold the business. "She just got tired," said Jerrold. "It got to be a headache." The long reach of the television antenna had also begun to cast a shadow over the little amusement park. "The kids -- and their parents -- were all staying at home to watch TV."
Kiddyland continued to operate for a few more years, then closed for good, its rides dismantled and hauled away. For years, the land stood vacant. Now commerce stands on the site. You want thrills these days, try the traffic on Speedway.
"A lot of people lost money under the merry-go-round," remembered Jerrold. "I used to say that when they closed the place down, I wanted to go back there with a metal detector. But I never did."
Never mind. For some of us, the coin of memory still burns bright. Of dancing pink ponies and train trips down a clackety track -- to that place of childish dreams.
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